


How the Story Begins

by hardboiledbaby



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, M/M, Post-Canon, Retirement years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 02:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15133433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardboiledbaby/pseuds/hardboiledbaby
Summary: "Once upon a time..."That's how most stories begin, right?





	How the Story Begins

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Как история начиналась](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15491583) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



> For the Watsons_Woes July Writing Prompts 2018 challenge on Dreamwidth.
> 
> Prompt #1: [_**One Thousand and One Nights** : Have one character tell a story to another_](https://watsons-woes.dreamwidth.org/1751043.html)
> 
> (don't blink or you'll miss it)

_Once upon a time, there lived a remarkable consulting detective...._

It was not the most original of openings, nor was it a particularly interesting one, for that matter. It was, however, the words that sprang to his mind when John Watson first sat down to chronicle the exploits of his flatmate, Sherlock Holmes. He did not actually commit those words to paper, of course, but they were there in his thoughts nonetheless. 

Nothing remains unchanged nor unchangeable in this world, however, and at some point the unwritten words became:

_Once upon a time, there lived a remarkable and brilliant consulting detective and his faithful companion...._

That was fine. The sentiment was true, after all, and surely no one would deny his rightful place at Holmes' side in these narratives. It was all fine.

But then, somehow:

_Once upon a time, there lived a remarkable, amazing, brilliant consulting detective and his faithful friend...._

_...his devoted admirer and staunchest defender...._

_...the man who loved him._

Watson knew his regard and admiration for Holmes was returned, knew Holmes cared for and about him, but love, passion? _Eros_? All evidence led him to the conclusion that his desire for more than platonic friendship would never be reciprocated. He accepted his fate, and found love with another. It was fine, it was all fine.

Until it wasn't. 

Then, for a time, there were no more stories. There was only grief and regret.

***

The moral of this tale: fate can be cruel, but it can also be kind. 

Or perhaps, more accurately: this is what happens when you see, but you do not observe.

As it turned out, the evidence of Holmes' death—the letter, the signs of struggle—was not evidence of any such thing at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Your inevitable and totally erroneous conclusions," Holmes had chided, and he was not speaking merely of Reichenbach.

Watson had never been so glad to be so wrong in all of his days.

***

With a smile and a sigh, Watson set down his pen. 

Holmes peered at him over his spectacles. "Are you finished, then?" 

"For now," Watson said. 

"Which case have you chosen to regale your readership with this time? One would hope it is suitably instructive regarding deduction and analysis and not overly sensationalised for—" he paused, pursed his lips, raised a brow, and finished, "—dramatic effect." 

Watson laughed. The twinkle in Holmes' eyes as he made this pronouncement was very much on display, and Watson marveled that he had ever thought the man unemotional and cold. Of course, that assessment was many years old. In the decades since then, their life together had proven beyond any doubt that this most perfect reasoning and observing machine was also capable of great emotion, especially great love.

"Alas, I fear I shall disappoint you, for I have yet again failed to take your advice with regard to my writing, my dear." Watson gathered up his papers and joined Holmes on the sofa. "This piece in particular lacks any kind of scientific rigor whatsoever."

Holmes feigned a look of deep despair before smiling and drawing Watson into his arms. "Ah well. I have learned to accommodate a certain amount of mawkishness, I daresay."

"In any case, this story is not meant for publication."

"Oh?" Holmes drew back slightly to better see Watson's expression.

"It is meant for an audience of one: a tale of joy and sorrow, adventure and romance. There are heroes and scoundrels a-plenty, and acts of both villainy and redemption abound. It is, in short, the story of two lives well lived."

"I see. And has the final chapter been written yet?"

"No. God willing, there are many more chapters to come."

"Good." 

"More chapters full of the same sentimental prattle you so disdain."

"Splendid." Holmes pressed a kiss onto Watson's grin. "Will you read it to me?"

Watson settled back against Holmes and cleared his throat.

"Once upon a time, there lived a remarkable, amazing, brilliant consulting detective, and the man who loved him...."

 

_And they lived together, happily ever after._


End file.
